Reviews Coming Soon

Thursday, March 17, 2016

London turbo-doom trio, VŌDŪN, are a live act like no other. Dabbling
in all things voodoo they paint their music and themselves accordingly
and allow the crowd’s focus to fall naturally upon their vocal icon –
one Chantal Brown (a.k.a. Oya), once member of Chrome Hoof. She is the
veritable stick of dynamite with a crystalline, pulsing vocal that
borders on the operatic. Crush that into a small room and throw in Ogoun
and Marassa (her co-conspirators) and their gutsy, thundering backline
and you’ve got an overwhelming burst of colour-drenched music.

One fleeting experience with them at the London Underworld, watching
them steal the show from opening slot, was enough to burn their name
onto my cortex; so it was a happy day when their debut album landed in
my inbox. Could they reproduce anything like the same impact shorn of
their visual show?

From the off, we quickly learn that their moniker refers to the god
of the West African Yoruba people and their religion – the inspiration
behind the distorted voodoo tropes we’ve all assimilated from the
movies. Through a series of track-linking spoken passages, we also learn
that the band can come across as a little preachy.

Skipping over that then, the music itself is indelibly marked with
many of Skindred’s tribal touchpoints and rumbles along with a
passionate, rhythmic flow. Oya’s enormous vocal immediately takes
centre-stage which is only right considering the quality. I can see how
the dominance of it could be a marmite issue and the shock value has
diminshed somewhat from being within touching distance of it which is a
shame. Any way you take it though, she sells every note and gives her
all in an impassioned display of both control and range.

There are plenty of standout tracks:“Bloodstones” simmers with
joyously soft blue notes that whip up into gutsy driven climaxes; her
own “Oya” allows our resplendent vocalist to fully stretch out her
peacock’s feathers; “Legbas Feast” brings in folky elements and
enigmatic sounds of the jungle to create campfire music to dance to; and
“Mawu” delivers an unctuously thick, fuzzed undercurrent that stands in
direct contrast to Oya’s vocal clarity.

Having fully road-tested it, there is an unerring similarity between
the tracks and the album loses its sense of purpose as it reaches its
conclusion. One particular thorn is “Divinity” that quickly abandons its
drive for a dissolute structure that skips between structural sections
without truly defining any of them.

VŌDŪN’s number one selling point is that they bring something
fresh-sounding to a stagnant scene. They seem boundless by design and
big on extracting the core triumvirate of soul, psych and blues. With a
compelling live show already nailed on, if they stick to those three
emotion-sparking keystones they will remain a beguiling act to follow.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Atmospheric doom quartet Soon is the brainchild of
Stuart McLamb and drummer Thomas Simpson. As purveyors of indie pop,
their main project being The Love Language, it’s an unusual sidestep but
is a most welcome one and offers up listeners the opportunity to
immerse themselves in music with a metallic canvas streaked with
innovative flecks of folk and dreampop.

Although the band do find room to go low and slow, they shrug off
doom’s more contemplative concepts. Instead they choose to mix up the
delivery to try and keep the run-times down. The end result is a stingy
album length of 35 mins.

Diving in, the instant connection to Mars Red Sky is established with
opener “We Are On Your Side” revelling in its catchy vocal hook and
heavy power chord combo. Lilting through the verses they lighten the
crush and coat the music with a watery psychedelic wash.

From here, the tracks fire in and fade out leaving the unsuspecting a
little punch drunk. They act as mere tasters of something potentially
stronger. In this form, they are just fillers that lack direction. “See
You Soon” and “Gold Soul” are particular culprits of these narrowed
horizons. There is pillar, there is post, but the journey between them
is what counts and these tracks gutter like dying candles.

An album of contrasts then, the band glory in the fact that they can
stick “Glass Hours” next to “Mauveine” – one is a punky panic of
flailing arms, the other a bowed beauty of gentile folk maudling. It is
the final two-track statement that takes the biscuit though. “Take a
trip down to the feeling / Take your hands off, take it easy” intones
the three-way vocal as the band slip back into a more recognisably
ponderous vibe – one that shares a commonality with the superbly bluesy
experimentation of Orange Goblin and the bliss-kissed mind of Monster
Magnet. Then the segue from penultimate to ultimate hits and peels away
to reveal the very “abyss-gazing” that their own blurb swears blind the
band don’t do.

Soon promise to be an infuriating enigma. How can an album so replete
with half-baked ideas and antagonistic contradictions still produce
moments of genius like these?